


late apologies

by Werekoyote



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aziraphale Has Many Eyes (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has Panic Attacks (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley cries, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Gen, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, I'm new to this okay?, M/M, Other, Pre-Fall, The almighty - Freeform, fall - Freeform, god is here, god shows up unannounced and makes crowley cry, it is one giant clusterfuck, mentions of pre-fall, mother - Freeform, pre-fall Crowley, she is apologising, she is not good at apologising, she is very sorry, the tags are all over the place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werekoyote/pseuds/Werekoyote
Summary: it's Her fault. Why did She have to come and apologise? She's terrible at it anyway. Now look, Crowley's a sobbing mess.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i found this prompt(?) on tumblr

Crowley had just come back from another summoning. There had been more of those ever since the Nope-ocalypse and he highly suspects the newer demons being the cause. They would be spiteful. Not that his previous bosses weren’t spiteful, they were demons, they were filled with spite. It’s just how they are. Basically their job description. As long as there’s reason, reasonable or not, they will spite. It’s just that they weren’t _creative_ , they would _never_ in all of Eternity come up with anything as creative as sending books on how to summon _yellow eyed demon_ to the surface. Only particularly lazy, spiteful human-turned-demon would do that. Likely they worked in retail.

It was a bunch of teenagers _again_ , those were the only ones that worked anyway. The older and typically male part of the human population usually have sticks too Far Up their Ass that they can’t be bothered to research their shit. Crowley _hated_ those. They _never_ listen and they usually just want Disgusting Things that only humans could possibly conceive in those creative and terrible, horrible brain of theirs. At least the girls and the persons of that coven had been polite and nice. They offered food for him, it was rather sweet of them. He would have preferred it if they cooked the chicken though. He doesn't enjoy raw chicken much.

He talked them out of selling their souls and they were all chastised and properly taught. Crowley gave them his number, in case they needed him again. He was Very Pleased with them.

He was in the Bentley now, on the way to his house to pick up some stuff before driving off to Aziraphale’s. He let the Bentley direct their destination as he continued to mull over the tea party that he had with the children. They were his now. He’d likely watch over them for a while until they gained their footing. One of them, Riley, was still working up the courage to come out to their parents. He had already blocked the dangerous bigoted channels from their cable and Affected the algorithm of their social media. He smiled at the thought of Jena who cursed the residents of Riley’s house to have terrible coughing fits whenever they say or think about queerphobic or otherwise bigoted things.

The Bentley halted violently in front of his apartment building and parked diagonally, taking up as much space as was inhumanly possible. This is why he loved the Bentley so much. It just _gets_ him.

He walked out and immediately felt a _shift_ in the air. The apartment building was _oozing_ with Grace. He frowned before rushing in. The elevator was out of order as was his Will but he cursed at it anyway. He was halfway through the stairs when he realized he was occult and can snap his fingers to appear in his apartment. He snapped and one second the Earth was still the next he was hurtling through space and time to get to his living room.

He arrived there with a witty comment on Aziraphale’s carelessness and ‘ _Oozing Grace really, Angel? Is this another oh lord heal this bike, is it?’_ what he found there made the words disappear from his lips like scrumptious desserts in the face of Aziraphale.

She was there.

 _She was there._ Here in his apartment.

He had never seen Her before. No angel has. Sometimes the lucky human will stumble upon Her, or so he’s been told. Not even Her favourite Sammael or Lucifer as he liked to be called these days. But She was unmistakable. He just _knew._ There was something about Her that you never mistake for anyone.

He took a step back. And then another and considered his chances with flying up to Alpha Centauri. He wanted to run away. He averted his eyes. You weren’t supposed to _look_ at the Lord. That was the rule. Not that they’d ever had the need to use it really.

She calls out his name. A name he’d forgotten. It was inconceivable to human minds. Barely conceivable to him now. It was a name She had given him. When She told him to make the stars. He doesn’t use it anymore. He didn’t think he’d ever use it. He already has a name. One he chose for himself. When Heaven cast him out and Hell disappointed him. When She cast him out. It isn’t his name anymore but you don’t correct the Lord. Unless you want to be erased, _well and truly_. So he kept quiet. Kept still but looked up when She called.

“My child,” She said. It felt warm. She didn’t need to speak. She didn’t need to do anything for that matter. He felt like crying. He had spent millennia hoping to be Hers once more. He had begged, pleaded, prayed for forgiveness. For himself and for the humans. He had spent _years_ , on his knees. Begging to be heard, to be listened. His charred soul lurched and writhed.

He stood. Inhumanly still. He wanted to scream, cry, run. He wanted to be away from here. Away from Her. He want to run to Her, cry and sob on Her shoulder like a child. She created him like that. Made him a child until he grew. He was the only one She grew, everyone else was created however She pleased.

“Crowley,” She called. He trembled. His corporation sweating for the first time since he’d had it. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to acknowledge his choice nor his existence. He felt Her Love. He didn’t know if he would suffocate or breathe better.

He doesn’t need it, he tells himself trying to contain the tears that are threatening. He doesn’t need Her Love. He already have _his_. He already has too much of the _love_ he doesn’t need more. Especially not from Her. His wings shivered.

“I am sorry,” She said. He snapped back and looked at her with Surprise. Mothe – the _Lord_ did not apologise. She was infallible. Unable to fail. That’s Her job description.

He opened his mouth, likely to tell Her She didn’t do anything wrong. His mouth didn’t work though, neither did his throat. His corporation was malfunctioning but he Did Not Want to remove it thank you. He was a hideous being. A twisted, charred version of who he had been when She grew him. He would rather hide in his Not-Quite-Right body than show her what Damnation had done to _him._ The real him. His truest form. He and Aziraphale had talked about that. Aziraphale had loved him anyway. He peppered Crowley with compliments and _Love_ the kind that was just for him. He didn’t think he was as hideous as before but he would rather not show _anyone_ other than the Angel, thanks.

She looked at him. There was remorse in Her eyes lots of it. Remorse not eyes. Also eyes. She had lots of eyes and all of them has Remorse and Regret. It was disconcerting. He felt his heart _ache_ , The last time it did that Azirapahle had looked at him with joy shining in his eyes as he said _‘to the world’_ in the way that Crowley had never heard before.

It was strange and terrible and good and _warm._

“I had been a negligent Mother,” She said, once more. There were tears in her eyes. Some of them. The others are too far or too obscured for Crowley to see. She stretched for all of Eternity inside his apartment. She was huge. Incomparably so. She was bigger than the universe. It hurts his head to think of how she had fit in his apartment.

His heart _aches_ again. The next time he might give it a capitalization for emphasis. It truly hurt. In a way that he couldn’t understand. In a terrible, horrible, brilliant way. It was warm and scorching. Too much and just _right._ It was driving him to insanity. If that applied to them.

He can feel Her. Against his skin and against his true form. She was reaching out. Tentative and unsure. He flinched. She was Holy, She shouldn’t touch the damned. She withdrew quickly, as if afraid She might hurt him. He wanted to laugh. She _had_ hurt him. When She turned her backs to _Them_. The humans and the angels – demons – who fought for them. She _had_ hurt him. When She threw him away. When She threw all of them away. Into a boiling pit of tar. Where She ignored their cries as they _burned_. She _had_ hurt him. He stayed silent. Looking away from Her eyes.

Her light flickered, as if She was struck. He winced. He should have stayed still. He cannot afford to lose his life now. He can finally love his angel. Surely She would punish him now. For his insolence. He remembered those days. When She punished for _insolence_. You do not talk back. You do not look. You only obey. You sing Her praise. Nothing else.

She had been lenient, at first. She took their wings, stripped them of rank. It was a slap on the wrist compared to what She did after. She had been kind, there was no doubt in that. She forgave their _insolence_ , She gave them their wings and their ranks back with a reproachful tut and a soft embrace of Her grace, a few words of reprimand and Her version of ‘I am not mad, just disappointed’. He would know. It happened often enough to him. That was from Before.

She lost patience for rebellious little nobodies that incited conflict in the ranks. Grew tired of questions and saw them as Faithless. They never were. They believed in Her. At least he did. She cast them out. Threw the gates open and pushed them out. They didn’t even know there was a gate or that there was something other than the universe She was making. They fell. He remembered that. He fell. Graceless and unforgiven. It was terrible. The whole of the Host watched as they fell. They burned even as they plummeted. Their flesh charred and their wings on fire. They were black before they hit the tar. They drowned then. Tar invading their lungs. Yanking their soul from inside their bodies and burning it till it was unrecognizable before putting it back. Wrong and still aflame.

They cried out to Her then. But She did not help. She never let any angel fall after that. She had seen how terrible it was.

He shivered, remembering the fire in his veins. Burning him from the inside as the tar ate away at him on the outside.

“This apology was owed long ago. After,” She said and the fire moved to his eyes. His tears fell and he was surprised they didn’t burn through his floor. They were scorching his eyes.

“I had wanted to go down and retrieve you all then. You screamed so desperately for me. I would have but I thought I should finish the Creation before I took you back in again. But I was so engrossed by the humans that by the time I could take my eyes off them, you had started to live without me. You all forgot what you fought for and started tempting humans. I could not tolerate that.” He did not want to hear Her excuses. He still has tar in his veins. He still feels the Emptiness.

That was the biggest thing. More painful than anything. More than the tar in his mouth and nose and lungs. More than the fire in his veins. The Emptiness. She had forsaken them. Cut them off from her. She was ineffable and Her presence was a constant reminder of Her love. Without it they had floundered. They panicked. They went insane. Ballistic. They yearned to replace Her or at least to ease the agonizing _nothing_ that they had been left with.

“I know that it is not wanted but I am truly sorry, my child,” She said and some eyes shed tears. They dissolved from existence as soon as they left Her eyes. He fought the urge to flinch again. She looked at him imploringly, Her light fluctuating, hesitantly moving closer. He stayed still this time when She brushed against him. All of him. Corporeal and not. He shivered.

There was warmth. And then he was filled with Her again. Her love tried to go to the gaping hole that Aziraphale’s love tried and almost succeeded in filling. She flooded him. He felt like falling again. He was sent back there again. He pushed the memory away but Mother took hold of it. They were sucked into it. He witnessed himself Falling. He _witnessed himself Falling. It felt like forever. The wind rushing past him as he burned. He drowned in liquid fire and his soul wrecked_. He jerked. Pulling back from her desperately. He didn’t want that- that _pain_ again. No more. No more. Please. _Please no more._ _Please listen to me this time, no more._

He emerged from the memory with a sob. It wracked his whole body. He trembled and cried. And cried and cried. He screamed and thrashed and She held him. Begging for forgiveness. Begging him to calm down. She too was sobbing. Tears fell from all her eyes, her Light flickered violently in distress. He wailed and pushed and thrashed. Living again through the fire in his veins. She held him tightly.

It took him a long time, perhaps hours, perhaps days. It may have been weeks. He did not know. But through the haze, through the fog of pain, he recognized Aziraphale’s voice. His presence. His arms. His wings. His heart. He hold onto him. Like a lifeline. Like he might Fall again if he didn’t. He can feel Her. Still. She hasn’t left. She has stayed for as long as he sobbed. Longer still.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which both crowley and aziraphale ignore the lord's presence over panic attacks, flashbacks, more panic attacks and some humans that crowley decided to adopt.

It took him a while to calm down – _hours, days, weeks –_ but when he did he opened his eyes to find that She had taken a corporation and She looked like a human woman. Because, _of course She did._ She looks a great deal like Book Girl.

He was still in Aziraphale’s arms, She was carding Her _human_ hands through is charred wings. He must have fallen asleep. He wondered how long he cried and how long he slept.

“Good morning, my dear,” Angel said and he could almost believe they were back in the bookshop. With the way he was carding his hand through his hair, his other hand holding a book. He smiled at him and Crowley felt the numb that claimed him thaw. He was so composed, it felt almost wrong. His angel was the fidgety one.

“Why’r you s’calm?” he said, taking the hand carding through his hair and holding to it. _The Lord, your Lord is sitting here!_

“My dear boy, it has been a month since you fell asleep. It is not terribly hard to get used to Her presence while you snored away,” there was amusement in his eyes. Crowley shifted his gaze and found that _yes_ , all of them _are_ amuse. All the eyes. Crowley felt more of his cold numb melt away.

“Are you well, my child?” he flinched. Her voice was still the same Voice that chased them out the Gates. She frowned, concerned. _That’s new._ Her frown deepened. He stood up slowly. His legs trembled in protest and his knees buckle. Angel was at his side immediately and he guided Crowley beside him and wrapped one arm around him. Steadying and grounding, as he’s always been. As he always will.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d react so violently to my Presence,” he snorted at that. Did She not know that She’s the epitome of Holiness and that _he is a demon_? He feels braver now, with his Angel. It was amusing. In a horrible way. She was supposed to be _omniscient_. That was Her whole _thing_!

“You didn’t _know_?” he asked, incredulous. Because he wasn’t quite not numb yet and he wasn’t quite centered and he hasn’t quite taken hold of himself yet. He would not have said that, or anything for that matter, if he had been feeling quite like himself.

“I’m sorry,” She said with a sigh.

Crowley drew back as if burned, realization crashing down on him like cold water. You aren’t even _allowed_ to look at the Lord, much less _talk back_! What was he _thinking_? He shivered again. _Her disappointment settled on his skin as She_ spake _the words that stripped him of his rank and took away his wings_ again. _It was heavy and almost painful and he didn’t know what was wrong with asking why there were stars if the Creation will never set foot on them anyway. Tears fell freely once Her light left him. Why was he punished for the curiosity that_ She _had given him?_

“-rowley, dear boy.” His eyes snapped to an angel, dressed in clothing he had never seen. He was looming over him. Surrounding him. Grounding him. He wondered for a moment why this angel was calling him that name and why he was offering his warmth and love to a Disappointment like him. “Come back to me, my love. Come back to me now,” the angel whispered and he thought it was an odd prayer to give to a wingless angel. The oddly clothed angel looked him in the eyes and he was surprised by the amount of _love_ in there. More than what he thought anyone was capable of. And it was all _his._ It was all just for him.

With a gasp he came back to himself, the feeling of Disappointment still weighing on his skin and for the first time in a long while Crowley wondered how good it would feel to peel the skin off and shed the heavy weight of Disproval there.

He was startled when his angel held his face in is hands and wiped the tears that are flowing down his human skin. Thousands of sky colored eyes all creased with worry and his holy flame burned with righteous wrath. Crowley shook before burying his face on the nook of Aziraphale’s shoulder. He wondered if his human heart would come out with how violently he was sobbing. He trembled and wailed and Aziraphale held him. Rubbing circles on his beck and running fingers through his hair.

Distantly he felt Aziraphale’s head on his shoulder and felt the warmth that exuded from him. He stood there, in his angel’s embrace for a while. He didn’t know how much time had passed, he didn’t care. All he had is time and his angel and the humans that he had chosen to adopt.

The thought of the children broke through the mush that was the millennia old repressed emotions and memories that he knew he had to process some time. If his therapist and his angel had anything to say about it, it would be soon. If he had been sleeping for a month, then the children were without his aid for a month! They probably thought he abandoned them!

Quickly, he freed himself from the wonderful confines of Aziraphale’s arms and reached for his phone inside his inhumanly tight jeans. Panic flooded him when he couldn’t reach the blessed thing. He tried the other pockets with much haste, panic rising as he scrambled to find it.

Aziraphale watched bemusedly at his panicking husband before he asked what he was looking for. Crowley looked at him with so much fear in his eyes that the offense for his abrupt scrambling melted away. “What’s wrong, my darling?” he asked, arms reaching out to silently asking permission to touch Crowley once more.

“My phone! Have you seen the _blessed thing_? I need it, the ch – my _associates_ will wonder where I am,” he said, tone slightly raised. Aziraphale took that to mean, “a human (or a group of them) had endeared themselves to me and I’m worried about them,” in Crowley speak.

“These…associates, they wouldn’t happen to be a…ah group of sixteen year olds…would they..?” Crowley’s eyes snapped to him from where he had been frantically opening drawers within his bedroom.

“…You know about them..?” instinctive caution woven in his voice.

“Why, yes! Quite a lovely bunch, we spoke over tea. They were understandably worried about your…ah condition,” all his eyes are looking into Crowley’s “they do understand that you were out of commission and they send their well wishes,” all the eyes twinkled and Crowley nearly crumpled to the ground in relief. _Bastard._

“Good, that’s good,” nodding jerkily, shifting from one foot to another awkwardly. “Do you…uh do you have my phone..?”


End file.
